On the Other Side of the Room
by yarnybear
Summary: A little vignette. Two Dawns are in the council room of the Dayroom, before Arthur comes in. This is in book 4 . I haven't written anything for a year, so sorry if I'm a little rusty. Plenty of verbal catfight.


**On the Other Side of the Room**

This was a scene from book 4. Monday and Wednesday's Dawns were sitting together…and you bet there was some drama going on. I'm writing this at 1 in the morning, so bear with me here. Note – I haven't been writing fanfics in a year, so yeah. I might be a bit rusty.

Disclaimer – Mr. Garth Nix owns the characters, the books, etc. I own nothing, sadly. On with the story!

Monday's Dawn sat demurely at her seat, her blush pink parasol stowed under her wrought iron chair. Her hands in her lace edged gloves were folded in her lap, and her ankles were crossed under her numerous skirts. Monday's Dawn was still, her eyes just wandering around the marble ballroom, watching the door to see if Lord Arthur would arrive as expected.

The seat next to her scraped the floor as it was moved, and Monday's Dawn kept her eyes forward. It was probably just another Denizen settling in, or arranging the seats to a more orderly pattern. But no, it was a Denizen, a woman, who was sitting next to her.

Dawn's eyes flicked to the left, and then forwards again, trying to gauge the identity of the individual. Straw blonde hair, vulgar fashion sense – pants were quite unseemly for females of high rank – and the tap of highly polished heels on a shiny floor.

The person on her left had noticed Dawn's quick glance, and she heard a chuckle.

"Oh, Monday's Dawn is it? It's a pleasure to meet someone of such high esteem," drawled the voice. It was quite a melodious voice, and soothed the ears of listeners.

Dawn, not even attempting subtlety, turned for a look. Her guess was right: it was that high strung snob of a Denizen, Wednesday's Dawn. She had on a white sailor's get-up with glossy black boots and a navy scarf with gold trim tied around her neck. Her hair was bound back in silver wire, with a few unruly strands giving off a "casual chic" look.

Monday's Dawn sneered. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you, 'Admiral Dawn'. Would you like to come to tea sometime? The Dayroom's always open for you. I suppose we'd have to hide the good china in case you suddenly get a tad hungry and decide to eat it too, but we'd manage."

Wednesday's Dawn merely smirked, and leaned lazily against her iron chair. Her fingers rested lightly on the arm rests, and turned to face Monday's Dawn. "I don't think you should bother, Miss Dawn. After all, you never seem to want to spare the effort for anything, and we should indulge your…ah, tendencies. All in the name of good friendships, to help and support and humour, I say. I'd invite you to a dinner party – seventeen removes, of course – but I wouldn't want to offend the guests if you fall asleep on the appetiser course."

"Humph!" choked out Monday's Dawn, and her slim fingers gripped the arm rest till they were white. She could barely contain her anger. "Well I wouldn't want you at a tea party anyway, Dawn, because I'd bet you wouldn't be able to help yourself and start gorging yourself on the furniture! That mistress of yours, that whale Wednesday, was never good. Her habits probably rubbed off on you, and only your powers can keep that flub from dripping over your belt!"

Wednesday's Dawn narrowed her eyes, and her lips flattened to a thin slit. A rush of red coloured her face, and her booted feet clicked on the smooth marble floor. "You've always been a sloth! Like master, like servant – you and your brothers both!"

Monday's Dawn stood up so quickly that her chair almost toppled backwards. Her parasol flew into her hand, and she pointed it at Wednesday's Dawn. "At least I have brothers, Admiral. They weren't gulped up in a moment…or a week, I mean, of mindless gluttony, as well as the whole of the demesne guards!"

Wednesday's Dawn raised her hand, and a harpoon appeared in her fist. Her brows furrowed, and her mouth was an angry scowl. "Mistress was always good to us, and you take that back, you filthy mouthed kitchen scullion!"

"Never!" shrilled Monday's Dawn, and opened her parasol as Dawn's harpoon shot out at her. Strangely, the harpoon didn't rip the delicate looking embroidered silk, but slid off with a loud squeak.

They stood facing each other with hate in their eyes, ignoring the curious stares of other people in the room. Just as Wednesday's Dawn was about to land another blow, a sword of darkest night and starry skies blocked her thrust.

"Sister, cousin, we did not come here to quarrel," came a quiet voice. "We came here at Dame Primus and our good Lord Arthur's behest. Now, you can settle your difference-"

"Take your seats," bellowed a low gravelly voice. "Let this council be in session. Suzanna, you can return the Transfer Plates to the china cabinet before you join us, please."

It was Dame Primus, and Lord Arthur. They were surrounded by a squadron of Commissionaires and led by Monday's Noon.

Monday's Dusk, who had separated the two Dawns, went back to his seat, his scarf wrapped top hat nestled in the crook of his arm.

The Dawns sat back in their seats, tension still crackling in the air. They ignored each other as Arthur waved to them, and Dame Primus rambled on about the Agenda.

The end.

AN - It's a short story for a short scene. Now good night.


End file.
